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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724133">To Be Human</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellatio/pseuds/constellatio'>constellatio</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, polyamorous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:07:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellatio/pseuds/constellatio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>'Some girls are sweeter, others have a tinge of bitterness, it is as if I can smell their souls. Their experiences and relationships are painted in warm, sour crimson.' </p><p>Emilia Jones harbours perhaps the only weapon that can unite the worlds two most powerful mutants. Too bad it comes with morning sickness.</p><p>Pre-First Class.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charles Xavier/Original Female Character, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier/Original Female Character(s), Erik Lehnsherr/Original Female Character, Erik Lehnsherr/Raven | Mystique, Hank McCoy/Raven | Mystique</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Bruising her Soul</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Some girls are sweeter… Others have a tinge of bitterness… It is as if I can smell their souls.<br/>Their experiences and relationships are painted in warm, sour crimson."</p><p>Katlyn Charlesworth</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><span class="u">June 1961</span> </strong>
</p><p>Emilia Jones is sure of many things. She has to be, otherwise, she will lose her mind. If she begins a book, she must finish it. Even if that means keeping her sister up until 3 am from the light of the lamp, because she just HAS TO KNOW if Bilbo stays with Thorin or returns to the Shire.</p><p>'Why aren't there any girls in this book?' She'd once asked her brother as he yanked on her sister's pigtails.</p><p>'Because girls don't go on adventures,' he replied, his chubby fingers weaving into her hair, wrenching harder on them than before. 'They stay at home and look after babies.' Her sister's fingers slithered towards and crawled around Emilia's book, then slammed it hard into their brothers face. He lost a tooth from that, Emilia had cried.</p><p>Emilia has to be sure of everything. If she watches the news on the television, her eyes wander over the person's mouth. Repeating every syllable and every vowel under her breath, just to be sure she was hearing it right.</p><p>Now, she isn't sure of anything. What she was witnessing was different from anything she had known before.</p><p>The smell of the hospital has become almost too much to bear. The five hours that passed by were filled with the stench of disinfectant burning through her nose. Emilia thought the chemicals were the reason behind the wooziness that began to go to her head. Or perhaps it was the anxious tapping of the people around her, the heels of their shoes drilling into the migraine in her head. She didn't mind hospitals, in fact, she rather liked them. It was the anxiety that reeked off of everyone else that she could not stand.</p><p>Coarse fingers brush her knuckles and she jumps, yanking her hand back as if she were stung. Her eyes flash to see a woman with a tail of silver hair slithering past her elbows holding out a magazine to her.</p><p>'I was wondering if you wanted this?' There's a glossy cover with Brigette Bardot covering it, and Emilia tries to ignore the feeling of the unread book she had brought shuffled in between her legs.<br/>'Thank you,' she murmurs, cheeks prickling red with heat. Before she has the chance to read it, a waiflike woman rounded the corner. Her auburn hair thinly scraped back, beady peering across the room.</p><p>'Norma!' Emilia called, gathering her things as she hurried to the woman. Norma's eyes zoned in on her, the permanent bags formed under her eyes seemed to grow heavier from seeing her.</p><p>'How is she?'<br/>'Tired,' Norma replies, looking everywhere else but her. As if eye contact would confirm that this was official, that this was happening.<br/>'But, she's alright?'<br/>'She's fine.'<br/>'Good,' she murmurs, trying to find words. 'That's good, and how is the ba-' Norma's eyes snap away as if to see anyone else was listening and then looks back at Emilia, as if she should know better than to mention it.</p><p>'Perhaps you should go sightseeing tomorrow,' Norma suggests, a thin-lipped smile takes over her face. It's too sweet to be cruel, Emilia thinks, but too rotten to be kind.</p><p>'On my own?' She asks, hangs beginning to twist the unread Shakespeare volume into itself.</p><p>'Enjoy yourself.' Her stomach knots at Norma's words, guilt twisting her stomach tighter each second the silence sprouts between them. Thick and heavy as though it could drown them. They stay like that until a young nurse inches towards Norma, whispering under her breath about a social worker. Norma leaves her in the waiting room, pressing a few notes into her hand. Someone calls out to her, asking if everything is alright, but everything burned. It burned so much that it took everything not to scream behind the flames.</p><p>She wanders until she finds a toilet, locks herself in the last but one stall, and her cries begin to replace the burn.</p><p>-o-</p><p>The pub she finds herself at is quirky yet quiet. Obscure paintings are hung in mismatching frames against lurid green walls. The barman, a portly man whose swept-back hair could not hide his advanced age, has the company of a sheepdog by his side. Not that Emilia minds any of that, she's mostly here to bury her tears in overpriced food.</p><p>'I had a dog like that,' she tells the barman. Her name had been Penny- her stepfather, after marrying her mother, had a habit of buying them everything they wanted. Then, her brother was born- sweets, kisses and sheepdogs were soon replaced with screams, fists and fits of tears.</p><p>'Would you like to pet him?' The man asks her as she orders her food. The dog, who looks older than the building itself, slept by a Jukebox- too deaf to hear the crooning of the likes of Presley and Fitzgerald. She shakes her head. Let the poor dog sleep, she thinks. Emilia sits in the corner of the room, attempting to stay well away from everyone and anyone. Unfortunately, it doesn't work.</p><p>'For she had eyes and chose me,' a man quips pointing to her book before he sits behind her. He wears a jumper with a slogan of a University she'd never heard of, and she can feel the sweat sink through it onto her.<br/>'I think that's Othello,' Emilia murmurs, 'This is Midsummer.' His thin lips curl up as he slums the rest of his drink down.</p><p>'No, it's from Midsummer, love. You need to read more.' She lowers her head, shovelling more food into her mouth, hoping that it would keep him away. A second man then sits on a table opposite to hers, and her body cringes into itself. The second one only tries to speak after the first has disappeared, until he gets bored of her ignoring him for ten minutes and pursues a redhead behind them. If she were home, her brother would call her rude for being ungrateful and ignoring compliments. He's an idiot, however. He doesn't understand that not all compliments to girls her age are genuine and feel more like veiled threats.</p><p>'You were right,' a voice declared. It comes from behind her, and she cranes her head to find the back of a white shirt. 'It was Othello, not Midsummer.'<br/>'I know,' she replies curtly. He makes no move to turn toward her, she inches back into her seat.<br/>'You didn't say anything.' He continues.<br/>'I didn't want to talk to him,' they remain back-to-back, until curiosity gets the best of her. She swings around in her seat, staring at his tanned side profile. 'You don't actually want to talk to me about Shakespeare...do you?' A smirk breaks across his face, yet he doesn't look up until the door swings open. His eyes flashed toward the entrance, only to look away when it wasn't who he wanted.</p><p>'You're right,' he eventually spoke, twisting an empty glass in his hand. 'You looked as though you were upset, I wanted to make sure it wasn't because of them before I left.'<br/>'Thank you.'</p><p>The man nods to show that he heard her, but says nothing else.</p><p>'Can I get either of you anything else?' The bartender asks.<br/>'Just water, thank you.'<br/>'You don't drink?' The voice on her right asks dryly, still glaring down the door.<br/>'It's a bit early, don't you think?'<br/>'It's half six.'<br/>'Is it?' She hadn't been taking notice of the time.</p><p>He sits there, not reading, not speaking. Just staring at that door. The air around them surprisingly didn't need to be filled with sounds, words, anything. The ache in her neck convinces her to turn back around and go back to her book. Whoever he expected never showed. Nearly an hour later, a heavy sigh escapes his mouth. His chair creaks as his body leans back to face her.</p><p>'Would you like a proper drink?' His voice is blunt, as if he wants her to say no, and she almost does. Until she turns around to face him again, this time steal-blue eyes face her, and they tell a different story.<br/>Both of them have too much on their mind to be alone tonight.<br/>'Your date cancel?' She asked, a twinge of bitterness escaping over the idea of being second-choice.<br/>'No, no date,' he corrects. 'Just work.' She waits, rolling her nails against the wood. She looks at the bar, the clock, and her book before going back to face the pair of tired eyes.<br/>'So,' she begins, swinging herself into the seat next to his. 'What are we drinking?' She grins, it's all toothy and wide and she tries to swallow it back down. He smiles back however, and her chest decides that it was worth it.</p><p>-o-</p><p>Two bottles of wine are empty (thanks to her) before she realises that they're both drunk. Most of the empty glasses on the table are his, yet only now does he begin to show his lack of sobriety. For the small hours she's known him, even she notices the sudden change in him. He appears to be unusually free. The man who no one dared to sit next to, now laughs with her when she can't stop giggling at his shark-like smile.</p><p>She teases him over why he's here, to which he asks the same about her. She confides in him and tells him the biggest secret of the last nine months. How her friend Beth got pregnant, how they all hid the pregnancy the entire time ('Her fathers a priest, he'd kill her if he found out') and how Beth's mother was making her give up the baby for adoption.</p><p>'That's... sad,' he whispers, deep in thought. As if his mind had never given thought to that subject before.<br/>'It is,' Emilia replies. She doesn't like seeing him sad, she reaches forward, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt in order to get him to smile again. 'I never got your name.'<br/>'Erik.'<br/>'Erik,' she repeats, testing his name on her lips.<br/>'Yes?' He asks, thinking she had been wanting to ask something. She bursts out into a stream of chuckles.</p><p>They flirt the entire night, but he doesn't dare touch her until they're outside. Staggering toward the next pub, she stumbles over a drain into him. When he catches her, she realises just how small she is compared to him. Which results in her reaching up as high as she possibly could to crash her lips clumsily against his. Nearly knocking all wind from her lungs, they fall against a car, giggling at each other's drunken clumsiness. The next kiss, however, was when she began to tremble, as he soon started decorating her neck with surprisingly delicate kisses. For a minute, she feels as though she's soaring.</p><p>Except, it isn't her.<br/>It's the car.</p><p>The metal beneath her fingers is contorting, melding itself into something not quite real. She opens her eyes when alarms start blaring and they're being hurtled forward, her foot twists and she collides against the concrete. She stays still, cradling her head. Not sure what's going on, she forces herself to breathe, not allowing her lungs to cave in on themselves. The alarm's scream threatens to blow her eardrums. When she finally attempts to get up, she lowers her arms to find her veins protrude a sickening black. Almost as though someone had slashed deep, dark cuts into her skin. The car, now mangled and ruined, finally stops blaring.</p><p>'Did you do this?' She wants to ask him, except when she meets his eye she already knows the answer.</p><p>'How did you,' he doesn't finish the sentence. The street's spinning and she feels herself hunch over, wheezing. Suffocating on her own breath, her stomach twists as a burning sensation makes its way up her throat. Her locks are scooped out of the way and a reassuring hand presses against her back.</p><p>'Breathe,' he whispers when she's finished. 'You're just like me.'</p><p>She chokes on bile as the sob breaks out.<br/>Perhaps, that's what she should have been afraid of.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks to Giraffe-Writes for helping beta. This fic is also on fanfiction.net!</p><p>Please tell me what you think of the first chapter, I'm open to any suggestions and would love to hear what people think as it's the main source of encouraging me to write :)</p><p>I'm thinking of writing a Villanelle/Eve Hannibal au in the future if anyone is interested? I am also thinking of writing a sort of fix-it-now of GoT where it focuses on Jon being the mad one!</p><p>Hope you and you're loved ones are all keeping safe!</p><p>(Do you still have to write the whole I don't own X-Men and stuff on here? Because I very obviously do not own X-Men or its characters)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Kaleidoscope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Come back! Even as a shadow, even as a dream."</p><p>Euripides, Herakles (translated by Anne Carson).</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">November 1961</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">8 Weeks</span> </strong>
</p><p>'So, what do you think?'</p><p>Nails rake against her knuckles, dragging skin back in clumps. She yelps, yanking and cradling her hand back. Will throws his head back and lets out a loud hyena-like howl.</p><p>'Shit,' Emilia swears over the sound of her manager's laugh. 'It wasn't that funny,' she grumbles, cheeks prickling red with heat. She finishes emptying the sink to the sounds of his laugh echoing off the kitchen tiles. Out of the corner of her eye, wisps of smoke emerge behind her, the stench of the source filling her nose. 'That stinks.'</p><p>'You don't complain when it's out there,' Will retorts, waving his cigarette forward toward the front of the bar.<br/>'Because they tip me,' Emilia mutters, 'besides, you're around food, it's just… gross.' He scoffs and takes another drag. 'Seriously, you don't know what's in those things.'<br/>'Doesn't matter,' he says, blowing a cloud into her face. 'It looks cool.' A shriek of laughter bellows from him again as she coughs in response.</p><p>Will came from America, somewhere in Ohio. He studied here in Oxford ten years ago and likes to remind you of that. Except, he fails to mention that he flunked his first year and has spent his life managing numerous bars since.</p><p>'What did you want?' She asks, ignoring the simmering heat in her cheeks.<br/>'The girl I'm interviewing, what do you think?' A low bell dings, signalling the next order is ready to be plated up. Emilia returns to Joe, the chef, scoffing at Will's request.</p><p>'You're the one interviewing her.'</p><p>'Do you think Frank would hire her?' Will asks through another drag. Frank was the owner of the hell hole that they call a bar. Around early August he had come down with an infection and still hasn't recovered. Leaving Will in charge.</p><p><em>I miss him,</em> she thinks as Will blows another cloud of smoke at the food she was plating up. Frank had been kind to her, made sure that no one like Will acted like this. He had no reason to hire her. The minute she and Erik had run, she had-</p><p>'Where'd she last work?' Emilia asked, erasing the thoughts inside her head. Will doesn't respond. 'Does she have any experience?' An uncomfortable expression settles on his face. His cigarette dangles from the side of his mouth and exhales a long billow of smoke that lasts a lifetime. <em>'Really?</em>  Will, really?'</p><p>'She seems like she really wants the job- <em>hey</em>, don't look at me like that! She could be really great for this place,' he defended. Emilia rounds the corner, heading out behind the bar. Across the room sits a blonde in one of their booths. Leather knee-high boots slither up her legs, boots that would have reached Emilia's thighs. Light, bouncy curls cascade down the back of her coat, unzipped enough to see peaks of golden, sun-kissed skin.</p><p>'I'm sure that's why you want to hire her,' Emilia forces herself to stop staring. Will leans over the food serving hatch, trying to hide his cigarette behind the counter.</p><p>'What do you think?'</p><p>'I think she's wondering why the guy interviewing her has walked off mid-interview.' The woman peeks over, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Will takes no notice and hides the charred stub. He jerks for Emilia to finish pouring a pint he hasn't finished. She grabs it, turns around and tips it down the drain.</p><p>'Anyone ever told you, you're a bitch sometimes? No wonder he-,' Will doesn't finish the sentence. The knives by the side of her begin to shiver.</p><p>A permanent reminder of <em>him.</em></p><p>'Shit,' he whispers, Will hasn't realised the now deformed cutlery by her side. 'I'm sorry, it was a joke, I didn't-'<br/>'It's fine,'.<br/>'It's not like him to just leave, have you heard from-'</p><p>'Are you going to hire her then?' She asked loudly. 'You know Frank doesn't like hiring people with no experience.' She had been the exception; Frank had liked how quick she could clean the place before opening. Emilia had liked his songs and how he would spontaneously pull his guitar out, pulling an impromptu concert to their customers. Sometimes he would pull Emilia up with him to sing, and he would make sure to tell Erik each time he would do this, just so he could come watch her. <em>And he had came,</em> she reflected, eyes misting up, <em>he came every time.</em> She throws herself back into organising the knives and forks, scrubbing the grime along with any trace of him from mind.</p><p>'I know, I know,' he trails off, going along with her avoidance.</p><p>'You want me to train her up, don't you?' A shrill ring of the telephone blares from the office, they both ignore it, choosing to stare each other down until the other one breaks.</p><p>'I'll pay you for the extra hours?' She knows that was Will's own way of apologising, and of course, she would accept. Oxford wasn't cheap to live in, especially when you're on your own.</p><p>'Deal,' she smiles. A wolfish grin breaks across his face and her smile begins to disappear at the sight of it. She's saved by the appearance of Joe, whose bald head pops up from behind the food hatch.</p><p>'Frank's on the phone.'</p><p>'Shit,' Will swore, reaching for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. As he pulls one out, he reaches back to the bar and chucks Emilia a file of paper that was left on there. 'Tell her she's got the job?'</p><p>'What's her name?' She asks, following him back into the kitchen.</p><p>'Raven Dark-something,' he mumbles through his attempts to light his addiction. His lighter fails him once, twice and then a third time before Joe chucks his own. 'Darkhouse? Darkhorse? It's on the sheet.'</p><p>'Darkholme,' she reads off of the paper. 'It's Raven Darkholme-Xavier,'</p><p>'Shit, what kinda name is that?' He's gone before she can respond.</p><p>When she goes back out to the bar, Raven is still there, her eyes focused on the entrance where Emilia comes from. Her eyes dart away, acting as though she weren't looking. When Emilia is a few feet away, she looks up acting as if she had just noticed her. It was kind of cute.</p><p>'When can you start?' <br/>Raven's eyes widened. 'Tomorrow?'</p><p>'Can you come in for 12? It's an easy shift, we'll supply your uniform, just bring comfortable shoes.'</p><p>A triumphant smile spreads across Raven's face, her dimples looking as though they may burst. Emilia forces a smile back, her stomach churning.</p><p>-o-</p><p>When Emilia returns to her flat, Isla, an older woman who lives below her, waits outside. She sits barely visible in a worn out plastic lawn chair. Her heavy, thick coat engulfing her, causing only the top of her head to be visible. She does that often now, sits outside the house they both share until Emilia comes back home.</p><p>'How are you?' Isla asks.</p><p>'Great,' Emilia smiles. The smile threatens to break when Isla's eyes dip up and down, they rest on her waist.</p><p>'You're eating again,' what should have been a question comes out as a statement. Emilia hums. The steps up to her flat are crooked and full of grime with ageing.</p><p>'Have you heard from him?'</p><p>A choked laugh escapes. It was an obvious answer.</p><p>'Not funny,' Isla chides.</p><p>Emilia finds it funny.</p><p>'This is a good thing,' Isla declares. 'That man was trouble.' Yes, but he was also handsome. He also had a way of making Emilia's toes curl the minute he began to whisper into her ears. Her face is flushed, and she remembers who she's talking to.</p><p>'Do you want me to bring back leftovers tomorrow?'</p><p>'If you're offering,' she pauses for a second as if she were remembering something. 'My granddaughter is coming tomorrow.'</p><p>'You look too young to be a grandmother.'</p><p>She doesn't hear Isla's reply.</p><p>-o-</p><p>'Well, shit. She has a boyfriend,' Will whines the next day. He stares out of the food hatch, in pitiful belief that his 6ft1 frame cannot be seen poking through. Emilia is across from him, rummaging through the Christmas decoration box.</p><p>'So, you've taken up stalking now?' Will pulls her beside him, pointing his arm across the room. Being only 5ft2, Emilia is forced to pull herself up to see Raven, who is talking to a man in a tweed suit.</p><p>'Don't point,' Emilia scolds. 'That's her brother.'</p><p>'Who's the stalker now?'</p><p>'We do talk, you know'. A lie. They have barely spoken during their two hours on shift together. Emilia tried repeating everything she had once been taught, and Raven silently tried to keep up.</p><p>But Will didn't have to know that.</p><p>The box she carries to the front of the bar is filled with flimsy tinsel, falling apart menus and a decapitated reindeer. She sneaks glances at the two of them. Raven points around, showing off different things around the pub to her brother. She expected Raven's brother to look like her; golden skin, blonde curls. Instead, he turns, and Emilia sees a pale, pasty face, a strong nose and dark brown hair.</p><p><em>Huh,</em> she thinks. She'd assumed he'd be taller.</p><p>She keeps watching, waiting for any indication that they're related. Nothing. The dimples in her smile don't exist in his cheeks. His features are sharper and more pointed, whilst hers are soft, as if they had been delicately crafted.</p><p>The bell rings, signalling food in the trap door. She reaches up on tiptoes to find Will's beady eyes. 'It's for the furthest table. Find out if she's talking about me.'</p><p>'Freak,' she responds, walking away.</p><p>When Raven isn't speaking to Emilia or anyone at work, she speaks at 100 miles per minute. Making Emilia's mission from Will harder. She hears something about uniform, dress code and having to take her earrings out. The brother catches Emilia's eyes and gives her a stern look.</p><p>When she returns, Raven is still talking, only this time she notices Emilia and gives a smile of recognition. She returns with it with one of her own, ducking her head down to avoid the brother.</p><p>Will watches her closely.</p><p>'Nothing,' she reports, pulling the decapitated reindeer out of its box.</p><p>'Well, one thing's for certain,' Will says, a smirk on his face. 'He did not like you.'</p><p>Emilia looks over to find the brother staring her way, a frown written on his face.</p><p>She goes back to her decapitated reindeer, hoping to find its head. The head is unfixable, shattered, but she finds some old fabric for a wingless angel. A dull throbbing begins in her head. Ignoring it, she tears what remains of the ruined wings off.</p><p>The ache turns into a crushing pain, one that pulses through in different waves of patterns. Gently, she brings her fingers to her head, jerking back when a bolt of pain scatters through her senses.</p><p>The pain subsides after a few minutes, enough to soothe her aching temples. It takes everything in her not to moan in relief. The doors open, then close and when she looks up, Raven is alone.</p><p>'That was your brother then?' Emilia asks, passing Raven the Christmas menus to put out. She searches her face, searching for any sign of relation. Still, nothing.</p><p>'I forgot my keys, he'll be back later to drop them off,' Raven replies. Her eyes scope Emilia's out, as if she too were trying to find something.</p><p>'Tell Will your brother's name, he'll let you off for five minutes if he knows someone's here for you.'</p><p>Raven does what Emilia suggests, and Will comes out with a bitter expression on his face.</p><p>'Charles Xavier,' he mimics. 'Jeez, where do these people get their names from?'</p><p>She makes a joke about how when people with money have kids the power goes to their heads. Out of the corner of her eye she spots blonde hair poking out of the food hatch.</p><p>Her laugh freezes up, her head ducks in shame. She goes back to work.</p><p>-o-</p><p>The headache returns. It's a faint drumming against her temples, as if someone was nudging and poking her to a rhythm.</p><p>'Is my sister still here?' The man, Charles, already knows the answer. If he realises that Emilia's shifts ended from her coat and bag in hand, he does not process it. He wears a nice suit, and just by that, he's a sore thumb that does not belong here.</p><p>'I'll call her for you.'</p><p>She's back by the changing room. There's a dingy toilet that's spacious enough to double as a room to change in, it contains a few stalls that were never cleaned. Emilia edges the door open to see if she's in there.</p><p>She finds a kaleidoscope of colours.</p><p>Scarlet red hair.</p><p>Blue skin.</p><p>Amber eyes.</p><p>She lets the door shut. Her arm reaches for the wall, steadying herself. Instead, she knocks the mop bucket behind her. Raven calls out asking who's there, Emilia is gone by the time she leaves.</p><p>She speaks to Joe as Raven, blonde and white again, darts past them. He talks Emilia into working an extra shift. She nods at his words, trying to ignore the bile rising in her throat. As soon as Raven re-enters, bringing back a purse, Emilia makes a beeline out.</p><p>She slams into someone.</p><p>Charles Xavier looks down at her with his lips in a tense line. She doesn't question why he's still here. Her face feels afire, her head as if someone took a drill to it. She mumbles an apology, bustling past him and slamming through the doors. She ignores her bus stand, not trusting her stomach to last the bus journey home.</p><p>She was right. Her stomach lasts five minutes before she runs into an alley and brings her lunch up behind a dumpster.</p><p>She walks the rest of the way home, the smell of vomit trailing after her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I originally planned for this to be posted on the 14th of April, then life kinda... got in the way.</p><p>Before I talk about the fic, I hope everyone is safe and well! I really don't know what to say, but if you're reading this I hope you and all your loved ones are keeping safe during this horrible time!</p><p>Sorry for the long break, life has been... hell. But, I'm back and I have finished Uni! The next chapter should be posted... end of June/early July? I'm trying to work on a Killing Eve fic and a Game of Thrones one so be patient with me lmao.</p><p>Hoping everyone appears in character, hard to remember to not write Raven in a Mystique-esque way yet, she's still kinda young and naive, or at least in this fic. Charles... may come off different but there's a reason for this which you might be able to guess why.</p><p> Shout out to giraffewrites for beta-ing this! You're always the best and I would never get anything done without you!</p><p>Thank you all for your kind feedback and kudos etc for this fic! I'm still getting used to Ao3 as you can probably tell, so if I forget or do anything wrong that's why! I'm going to try to reply to all reviews faster as I didn't realise I have to confirm the reviews.</p><p>Feel free to leave feedback/reviews! It'll be a huge help to my writing. x</p>
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